With Thanksgiving tomorrow and my neighborhood still navigating the seven stages of post-election grief, I’ve found myself reflecting on gratitude—particularly for my community and the many artistic escapes the Washington D.C. area offers.

First and foremost, I’m grateful to my parents for leaving their rural roots behind in pursuit of a better life in Northern Virginia. In their communities, during that time, imagining a career as an artist would have been nearly impossible. Growing up surrounded by art and artists allowed me to dream of what could be. Proximity to museums and galleries can be a powerful spark for a young mind, and it certainly was for me.

I vividly remember a school field trip where I first encountered a portrait of a boy depicted as an angel. I didn’t know the artist, but the painting struck a chord deep within me. It was the first time I truly felt something in response to art. That image stayed with me for years, tucked away in my mind until, twenty-five years later, I stumbled upon it again at the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

Alone in the gallery with only a security guard, I stood transfixed before that remarkable painting by Abbott Thayer. I couldn’t tear my eyes away for fifteen minutes. When I shared my story with the guard, he simply said, “Turn around.” Behind me hung another of Thayer’s works, even larger and more powerful—over six feet tall.

That second painting hit me like a revelation, delivering the kind of emotional impact that only art can. Admittedly, I was just beginning my “midlife,” but this masterpiece shifted my perspective. It redefined how I thought about art and what I wanted mine to achieve. I want that! I want my art to move people the way Thayer moved me. I want my Art to be more than decorative—to stir something deep, to inspire. That moment solidified my commitment to living the life of an Artist, not just a painter. For that, I owe Abbott Thayer and his work an immense debt of gratitude.

The D.C. area is brimming with opportunities for artistic escape—music venues, theaters, galleries, and even fabulous restaurants. Maria and I still frequent shows at the 9:30 Club, and every time we do, I’m reminded how thankful I am for its existence. That space has brought me endless joy over the years, a joy I hope others discover for themselves.

So, if you’re feeling the weight of the world—or struggling to shake off a post-election funk—Seek out those places that lift your spirits and support them. Whether it’s a painting, a concert, or a meal with friends, there’s magic in artistic escapes in our community. And for that, I’m deeply thankful.

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